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and all native travellers, and living the life of the people." Said a Syrian dragoman to me, You get the very cream of travel; you know how to live; you see and learn what most tourists cannot see.' And so I painted flowers in Joppa, Jerusalem, Jericho, beside the Dead Sea, in Bethlehem, Bethany, Nazareth, Carmel, Hermon, Nain, Tabor, Lebanon, Lake Galilee, Tiberias, Damascus, Smyrna, etc. These are all now living pictures for me; and so is Athens, Eleusis, Corinth, Missolonghi, Corfu, etc. After a year and a half of pleasant wandering "with myself," I got back to Italy, and after two or three months there, came to my old home in Geneva, where I passed a tranquil time of many months, before taking again my pilgrim's staff and going northward, visiting friends in Bâle, in Denmark, and in Sweden.

Where does not a foot-loose American find friends in these days? I am now with the Sandbergs, in their loveliest of homes on a peninsula in a lake, surrounded by wooded mountains. From here, in a few days more, I go to another friend in Nora, and then to the North Cape by sea, along the noble Norway coast, going back by land to Stockholm. This autumn I go to see Adela in England and her father and other friends in Ireland, and later I journey to Constantinople, and shall probably pass the winter on the Mediterranean coast. Beyond that I have no plan. I may go home via the Orient, Hawaiian Isles and California, or I may go via the Atlantic, in which case I would visit Spain next spring probably, as I have never been there.

Everywhere I have painted floral memorials. I have more than seven hundred species of flowers from various countries, and oh! such a great gallery of mental pictures, and such a heart full of happy, grateful memories. Humanity grows dearer, and heaven comes nearer to me with every added year. Everywhere I see the face of God, everywhere the marvels of His power and love, everywhere I feel at home, and everywhere at rest. My outward life may seem to contradict all this, but I have a great peace within, and never know what it is to be lonely. I have almost forgotten how to be unhappy. I am rich because I have few wants, and keep my life so simple. I have health, a pleasant occupation, friends, a love of study, and immense hopes for the future of myself and my race.

I hardly know why I have written you so long a letter. Perhaps because in all these later years I have kept trace of you with warm interest, and thank God for the temperance work. My life is so full, indeed so surcharged, that I am forced to be silent to a great number of persons whom I love, and with whom I would gladly communicate. In my journeyings I meet various persons who know you. I wish I could give you an address to which to write; but I am not certain of my route nor length of stay in any place. That depends partly on what I find to paint. Adela remembers you very well. I think all who have known remember you. I am glad to learn by Rev. Mr. Winslow, a New Church clergyman of Copenhagen, that you find some interest in the teachings of Swedenborg. Without being a Swedenborgian, I can still say that I owe him more than any other man. He led me into a bright land, and opened to me large and beautiful horizons.

Good-by, dear friend. Live long upon this planet.

Ever affectionately yours,

ADELIA GATES.

SON,

MY LORD?

EDITORIAL NOTES.

A people can be guilty of no greater folly than that

IS THIS YOUR of attempting to ignore injustice, immorality, and vice, or turning a deaf ear to serious charges which are felt by the many long before they are voiced by the few. It is the highest wisdom to boldly unmask and denounce wrong doing, injustice, hypocrisy, and immorality, wherever they may be found. The assumption that those who lay bare the evils as they exist, outrage propriety or are enemies of true progress and morality may be popular, but it is erroneous. There are at the present time many ideas abroad, many truths passing from lip to lip, which staid, easy-going conservatism regards with unfeigned indignation. It is too late, however, to seek to imprison, crush, or kill them. They are not men that they may be burned; they are truths, born of an age of progressive unrest. On the wings of freedom they float from mind to mind, kindling a flame which will not be extinguished until the wrongs are righted and humanity is vindicated. One of these heretical ideas which has escaped from the prison-house of respectable conservatism is that men should be judged by the same standard of morality as women; that a moral leper has no right to pose as a model or to pass current in society as true gold, because he is a lord of creation and knows how to conform to the requirements of superficial society. Another idea that is abroad is that hypocrisy should at all times and in all places be hunted down by every true man and woman; that the shams and frauds of conventionalism which have, while autocratically overawing the people, been sapping away the foundation of manhood, should be relentlessly assailed, to the end that the pure gold in human nature may be brought to the front, that the gilded shams, the shameful frivolities, the heartless superficialities that mark fashionable life to-day, may be exchanged for something more serious, worthier, and nobler. The cry of the present is for real true, earnest men and women,-not counterfeit presentments, such as have too long masqueraded before a wonder-gazing populace, who have been dazzled by their rich apparel and haughty bearing. There is still another heresy afloat, and this strikes more terror to the heart of the easy-going and highly-respectable libertine than aught else, and that is that the time has arrived when the wrong perpetrated by respectable [?] men against innocent girls shall meet its just reward; that the hour has struck when the true relation of male and female immorality should be established, in a word, that masculine immorality, or the evil that men do, shall be laid bare; that this problem shall be so forcibly and persistently agitated that a more just, a higher and purer standard of morality may result. I believe that the hour has arrived when it is the duty of every high-minded man and woman to be brave, frank, and outspoken in behalf of a higher civilization, that the wrongs committed by men may be as mercilessly chastised, as those of women; and this alone can be accomplished by an agitation so fearless, so earnest, and so pronounced that it will, as has been the case with other great radical reforms, raise a storm of furious indignation, such as has not infrequently led to social ostracism.

The above thoughts have been suggested by a new novel by that gifted and radical author, Helen H. Gardener, bearing the suggestive title, "Is THIS YOUR SON, MY LORD?" In it Miss Gardener has painted, in a marvellously realistic manner, three types of young men which live, move, and mingle in our midst. Fred Harmon, Preston Mansfield, and Harvey Ball are types; we have all seen hundreds of them. They are boldly drawn with the fidelity of a true artist. Fred Harmon, the conventional, fashionable, polished hypocrite, the product of a false civilization, a blighting curse to all who come within the compass of his influence; "an echo of an echo," and something far worse. Preston Mansfield, naturally high-minded, with manly impulses, possessing the foundation of a worthy if not a brilliant manhood, swept by outside influences into the vortex of vice until, sweeping others with himself, he meets a tragic fate. Harvey Ball, noble, frank, outspoken, real, a man who makes one renew his faith in mankind; a type of the honest-hearted, fearless investigator, in error in some of his views as we think, but it is the error of an honest soul who will follow truth wherever she may lead him, and such error is not to be feared. Such are the types which appeal most strongly to the parental reader. Then there is Mrs. Harmon. Ah! how often we have seen her, not perhaps this identical person, for it must be remembered that when an artist pictures a type many individual characteristics blend in a whole. Such is Shylock, such is Iago, such Hamlet; types rather than individuals, but none the less real because they are colossal. In contrast with Mrs. Harmon we have Mr. Stone, a grand, true, soul-inspiring figure, the type of the true man, of an ideal which should haunt the mind of every young man.

The value of the work, however, lies largely in its assault on the conventionality which tolerates immorality in men; in its bold assault on the glaring evils that are so indulgently regarded by society in young men, and which are so well illustrated by the Harvard "fast set," which Miss Gardener pictures in a more realistic than pleasing manner. This merciless exposé of the respectable frauds, the hypocrisies and the essential rottenness of society will, however, arouse a furious storm of indignation. Its author will be assailed by three classes of people. First: The froth on the surface of society; those who are pierced by Miss Gardener's darts. Secondly: They who dwell in the stagnant depths of conservatism; who believe that crime, immorality, and all manner of sins are not so very bad if they are not "found out"; who believe in allowing the social body to rot with eating, cancerous, ulcers rather than uncover the loathsome sores that the surgeon's knife may be applied and the body saved. They who believe in the ostrich policy of hiding the head in the presence of real danger. And thirdly: The theologians and a numerous body of the religious world outside of the clergy. Why? Because Miss Gardener has boldly attacked the hypocrisy and the shams of the clergy and the church, and I regret to say she has gone still farther, and in my judgment has cast a certain discredit on religion, which while reflecting her honest sentiments I do not share. She believes religion to be dying, that theology is passing away. I believe that true religion was never more vigorous than to-day. Our vision is broadening with the years. God is something far grander, nobler, and holier than they who dwelt in the childhood ages could conceive. He is the sum total of our most exalted ideal and far more than this; we are drawn to Him as the sun draws upward the germinating seed, and as for another life I do not for a moment doubt it. I believe ere long it will be as positively demonstrated to the majority of honest truth-seekers as any other scientific fact. I believe that the old theology is passing away; that the crude, unworthy, and ignoble vision of the nature of the great Over-soul which led to the torture and murder of countless thousands of earth's noblest sons is

vanishing before a far grander conception of God and the great hereafter. Miss Gardener is a woman of strong moral impulses. She has seen so much sham and hypocrisy under the cloak of religion that she has gone to the other extreme. This is the failing of all reformers, yet it may be a necessary weakness; some may have to go to the extreme in order to bring the multitude to the golden mean, but this does not alter the fact that to my mind her charge is as unjust as it is sweeping against the clergy as well as professors of Christianity. That there are many timeservers among theologians is unquestionably true; that there are far more who dare not investigate is equally true, but that they are as a body hypocrites is, I think, at once unjust and untrue. I do not doubt her sincerity, but she has failed to take into consideration the education, environment, and the atmosphere in which they have lived. I well remember hearing a clergyman in the West some years ago declare that Colonel Ingersoll did not believe what he professed, that he could not help believing the Bible. I felt at the time that he was mistaken - so with Miss Gardener. She has not risen to the mountain top before describing the picture. Her view is not as broad or tolerant as I could wish, but with this exception, which I regard a positive blemish, I believe her work will prove to be as reformative as it is radical. It is without question the most vivid exposé of the hypocrisy and shams of fashionable life, the most graphic portrayal of the wrongs which society tolerates and condones, that has ever appeared. The main questions raised embrace some of the most vital reforms that confront the future, and which must ere long be grappled with, — reforms which will save an army of innocent girls from being annually swept to nameless depths more terrible than the mind of man can adequately paint.

Justice for the poor and defenceless, however pleasing BUREAUS the thought to philanthropists and idealists, has never been conspicuous in its practical application among the OF children of men. Wealth, titles, and social caste have weighed heavily in the scales of the blind goddess in all ages JUSTICE. since man traced his history on enduring tablets. Perhaps to-day as never before we recognize this truth, a recognition which is at once the supreme glory and shame of the present. Glory that we have advanced far enough to see and feel the evil; shame that such injustice is tolerated when once recognized. Progress is, however, of slow movement, and the fact that there is a growing consciousness on the part of thoughtful, earnest persons that the wrong must be righted, is one of the most hopeful signs of the hour. An important evidence of the presence of this higher conception of right comes from Chicago.

More than two years ago in that city a society was formed known as the Bureau of Justice, since which it has proved its value in aiding the defenceless and oppressed in a most practical manner. Supported entirely by voluntary contributions from high-minded men and women, who have been impressed with the fact that the very poor are annually defrauded of tens of thousands of dollars to which they are justly entitled, it has not fallen the prey of designing and conscienceless political Pooh-Bahs, who to-day have obtained so many positions of responsibility as rewards for questionable partisan service. During the past two years it has heard over thirty-five hundred cases, and has collected for the friendless poor claims amounting to more than ten thousand dollars.

The beneficent influence of such a society is threefold: it protects the otherwise helpless and oppressed from the robbery of the unscrupulous rich; it improves the best members of society by impressing them with their individual duty toward their less fortunate brothers, instead of, as is

too frequently the case, expecting the state to do what is clearly the duty of the individual. It furthermore does more than aught else to restore the confidence of the poor in humanity, and check the growing impression that however blind justice may be, as seen in our courts, she still recognizes the ring of gold and retains the sense of touch. The splendid example of Chicago should be followed by every city in the Union; but one thing must be guarded against and that is, allowing this beneficent move to pass into the hands of the state or municipal governments. As long as it is sustained by voluntary contributions of high-minded citizens, it will fulfil its mission. If, however, its offices should become the prize for professional politicians, as would unquestionably be the case in the event of it passing into government control, its usefulness in many instances would be at an end.

OF

The closing paragraph of Mr. Boucicault's admirTHE DRAMA able essay on 66 "The Future American Drama" is as impressive as it is significant. It is the last message from the greatest Anglo-Saxon dramatist of this age to the magazine-reading world on the theme THE FUTURE. dearest to his heart. It contains a prophecy which I believe will prove a profound truth. The American people are, as Mr. Boucicault says, utilitarian and this is peculiarly the case at the present time. We are entering a constructive period. In every field of thought and endeavor a marvellous transformation has taken place; the old idols have one by one fallen; revered ideals have ceased to command the approbation of heart or brain. At times the very foundations have seemed to be giving away; in fact, I sometimes think the intellectual, moral, religious, and social conditions of the present resemble a forest after a tornado, or the lowland when the freshet has passed, so thickly do the idols of other days strew the pathway; yet who would have them back again? The night of unrest, doubt, and uncertainty through which our civilization has passed is bringing us into a far brighter day than humanity has ever known. The hour was when labor toiled on patiently and thought not, happy perchance as animals are happy; but, at length, into the brain of the toiler came the light of education, into the heart of the workman came the hunger of soul which reaches outward and upward. Then came the struggle which is even now in progress and which will not be settled until labor receives justice. Again in the realm of ethics, the hour has passed when the cry of the world, "stone the woman but let the man go free" met no protest. The old standard is sinking, a higher ideal is called for. In theology the changes have been still more marked. The realm of eternal torment in which the vast majority of all ages were supposed to be writhing in agonies unutterable, while a small minority sang praises to the author of a life which meant endless misery to the hundreds and joy to the tens is vanishing from view, a compliment at once to the heart and the brain of the age. And so in every department of mental, moral, and spiritual life, we see the old is passing away. It is the new heaven and the new earth in which the brain will be free; in which the heart will be throbbing with love, the hand willing to work and ready to help. The incoming age of human brotherhood; the day of scientific truth and spiritual growth; this is the fruition which will crown the struggle which is still being waged, and this is why the present is peculiarly a utilitarian age, a constructive period.

The conscience of the world is quickened, hence it hears the wail of woe, feels the heartache, and is horrified at injustice as never before. The moral impulses are profoundly stirred. The best men and women are becoming tired of lip service, hypocrisy, and shams. They are no